Running Around the World: Istanbul, Turkey

Bridging the Continental Divide

It is a known fact that running shorts not only expose one’s legs, but also expose their wearer to a high risk of heckling. In a country that shares over 850 kilometers of border with Iraq and Iran, an American might fear that such heckling could be dangerous. But in Turkey’s cultural capital of Istanbul, one is more likely to encounter to cheers of kuş, kuş, kuş (run, run, run, or go, go, go) or unintelligible (though not hostile) comments from amused Turks. Thus, when a hulking man in a designer suit inquired, “What’s in your dowry box, lady?” I felt like stopping to retort. Instead I managed, “Uh, nothing.”

“That’s too bad,” he said, stepping back toward the door frame of his rug shop, “because I was thinking to marry you. But now, no.”

If I had a dowry box, however, I wouldn’t mind filling it in Istanbul. Silk carpets, painted ceramics, Ottoman antiques, turquoise, and more importantly, bread, pour out of every store-front and kiosk. Carts of doughy, sesame encrusted bread rings called simit stand no more than 10 meters apart, and piles of ekmek—big fresh loaves—accompany every meal. Turkey is good for carb-loaders. It also offers plenty of avenues for putting this energy to use.

With the help of Istanbul’s (unofficial) 20 million residents and hundreds of thousands of tourists, you can at least triple your distance by dodging people on any street in the city center. Smoother going is found on the paved path along the Marmara Sea and the Bosphorus Strait. Accessible from most anywhere in the tourist areas, rocky waterfront lies on one side of the sidewalk, 5th century city walls on the other. Crossing the Galata Bridge between the Sultanahmet and Beyoglu districts offers a panorama of mosques, minarets, and satellite dishes provided you’re cautious not to be snagged by a fisherman as you go.

Continuing along the sea path toward the Besiktas neighborhood brings you right to the thresholds of Dolmabahçe Palace, an architectural hodgepodge built in the mid-19th century as well as the the presidential headquarters of Kemal Attaturk, the founder of the modern Turkish republic and the author of its secularist reforms separating the military from the government.

A few kilometers further leads to a yard full of torpedoes and cannon and the carcass of a massive submarine. Unable to read its label from outside the fence, I trotted over to the entrance where I was stopped by a guard in a sailor suit with a machine gun slung across his chest. “Ticket,” he said. I apologized for not having one and inquired about the submarine. “No speak in English,” he replied. “Made in Germany.” I thanked him.

“Where from?” he asked, swinging his machine gun in a friendly way. I contemplated lying. But he smiled when I said the U.S., and he and his machine gun leaned toward me. Balancing the gun in one hand and flailing at himself with the other, he said, “Soldier, America Company. Iraq. One year.” He shook my hand and waved me into the yard illegally. The description plaques were only in Turkish. I learned later that it was the U-Boat 46, sunk in the Black Sea by Russian-laid mines in 1916.

A few kilometers further take you to the Bosphorus Bridge, which, from the opposite direction, kicks off the Istanbul Eurasia Marathon. Run every autumn (this year on October 26th), it allows you to start in Asia and finish in Europe. Moreover, the race directors are eager to welcome running visitors to town in all seasons and will connect you to running groups hosting regular track sessions and shorter races throughout the year. Contact them via www.istanbulmarathon.org.

Istanbul is the only city in the world situated on two continents, and though the European Thrace side contains most of the famous sites, the Asian Anatolia half boasts the celebrated Atik Valide mosque and offers a pleasant run to the highest point in the city at the Buyuk Camlica hill. If you’ve run over from Europe, home is a fifteen minute ferry ride away if you’re too tired to hoof it back.

While it’s mostly pavement-pounding in Istanbul, the city’s ubiquitous Turkish baths have cared for aching bodies since the Byzantine era. A traditional bath includes a sweat in the sauna followed by a massage with a masseur who scrubs you before she rubs you. An hour-long bath typically cost between $15 and $30.

Though some days you might feel like the only runner in town, Sunday mornings bring flocks of locals to the seaside path—men, women, and children of all ages walking, jogging, and queuing up for the par course equipment. Ladies in headscarves and ankle-length jackets do tricep-dips with their male chaperones. Seeing this, I felt a little guilty for wishing I had a camera with me.

But despite the warm weather, I was still the only one in running shorts. Passing another par-course, I noticed a headscarved girl come down from the pull-up bar and reach into the pocket of her long coat. She extracted a camera-phone, waited until she thought I’d looked away, and snapped a picture.